


‘Cause I dream about nothing but you

by comedy-witch (calamaris)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M, Miscommunication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Supernatural Elements, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamaris/pseuds/comedy-witch
Summary: You promised yourself that you would never rewind time unless it was for a fight or to save a friend. The night Steve Harrington confessed was the night you broke that promise.
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	‘Cause I dream about nothing but you

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) by Bombay Bicycle Club](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFb86yrodxE)

Your power isn’t particularly special. Neither is it particularly useful. So you can go back in time about 30 seconds, _so what?_ Bad things still happen — really _really_ bad things that you can’t fix. You push a little too hard, press on that power too much and suddenly you’re retching on blood. Sometimes you get lucky, though. Don’t get it wrong – the bad things still happen. But with a little push, you can turn the tides, you can stop it from ever really happening.

Well, for everyone except you.

And strictly speaking you only use the power for good – you only use it when the world is ending because an inter-dimensional being is trying to take over your hometown. You only use it when you watch your best friend crash his car, trying to stop Billy Hargrove from murdering his ex-girlfriend. And maybe the first time he tries this maneuver, it doesn’t go as planned. Steve doesn’t stop Billy, but creates a domino effect that kills everyone involved – he breaks through the glass of his windshield and his body goes flying and you have to watch.

Without thinking, the world is spinning backwards, your hand outstretched toward him, and you have to see it all again, you have to see Steve’s body come back to life and reset what just happened. In the hopes that this time it’ll be different.

You get the outcome you want.

Eventually.

You count the rewinds, and you know you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be watching it unfold but you have to make sure that everything goes the way you want. But finally, the car swings around after the crash, and Steve’s body doesn’t go flying. Robin is next to him and you hear them speak before you feel your head pulsing, the overwhelming noise of your own heartbeat drowning out Steve’s yelling. Something wet and sticky is dribbling down your chin. You feel warmth, and then you feel nothing at all.

>>>

Robin finds out about your powers first because she’s much more observant than she lets on. You’ve been stuck in the hospital for monitoring since the fight in the parking lot, and it’s when Steve leaves to get something to eat that she confronts you about it.

“Do you remember when you got them?”

You look down at the IV in your hand. “Sunday, November 6th,” you glance up at Robin and her eyes widen.

“1983.” she finishes. And Robin knows because she’s lived here her whole life too – because everyone in Hawkins knows that as the day Will Byers disappeared. But nobody knows what else happened that day. “No fucking way.”

“Opening that door didn’t just let out a monster, Robin.” you put a hand to your chest, “It made some, too.”

<<<

You’re scared of it at first, because you don’t know the limits yet. It’s like getting a new co-worker, trying to find out what their likes and dislikes are, trying to figure out what sets them off or what they have patience for. And you’re only trying to find out more about them because you’re stuck with them.

You have a terrible feeling, after narrowly getting run over and rewinding it before you crossed the street, that you may be stuck this way. So you start testing the limits. You start doing more and more dangerous things, because from where you stand there isn’t much left to lose. 

>>>

It’s been four weeks since the last time you used your powers. Four weeks since Starcourt, and three weeks since Robin snagged you a job at Family Video. Even though you biked to work, dark clouds loom overhead and make you regret your decision. Steve pulls into the parking lot and you smile at him, but it takes him a bit longer to respond, clearly distracted by something.

“You alright?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he asks, pulling on his work vest. You frown a bit, about to reply but he cuts you short, distracting you by turning your nametag upside down and then ruffling your hair.

Steve hovers over you more than usual. You want to believe it’s because you were hospitalized after the battle at Starcourt, but that means he would’ve started this behaviour over a month ago. You don’t know what changed, and you’re afraid of the answer. So it remains a question at the back of your mind, as the hours tick by, as the light shower outside turns into a downpour.

By the end of your shift, the rain is coming down in sheets.

“I’ll pull the car up and we can throw your bike in the backseat.”

“No I’ll make a run for it with you and toss it in.”

Steve laughs and shrugs, grabbing your arm and starts to run at the car. He quickly opens one of the back doors and helps you haul the bike into the backseat, slamming the door closed and quickly getting into the front.

You hop into the passenger side and you’re both drenched. Steve looks at you and laughs, and there’s a curl of hair that’s stuck to his forehead. It curves around his temple and almost joins his eyebrows together and you can’t help but burst into laughter too. You reach over and brush his hair from his face, thumb lingering near his cheekbone, droplets of water curve down your thumb and onto your wrist.

Steve takes hold of your hand in his own, long gone quiet, his brown eyes watching you with warmth and affection. You let him lean over and you know what he’s about to do because there’s a fraction of a second before he looks nervous. Like you may not let him.

You lean a bit closer and Steve kisses you, your eyelids flutter closed, his hands warm on your cheeks. And you move in synchronicity, inching closer to one another, Steve’s mouth opens a bit more, tongue brushing against your own and you twine your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling away only to catch your breath.

“Steve—”

“Mmm,” he kisses your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck.

“What are we—” you sigh when he comes back up, and then he captures your mouth again, silencing you. You nip his bottom lip and he’s the one to pull away this time, eyes blown wide in a way you’d never admit to imagining.

“I’m in love with you.” he says. And you’ve made a huge mistake. Because Steve can’t love you – he _can’t._ You almost lost him. You saw him surrounded by the glass of his windshield, you saw him dead on the pavement only a month ago. You know what it feels like to have the heavy weight of his loss sit on your chest and crush you. Even if it was only for a moment, you lived in a world where Steve Harrington died in the parking lot of the Starcourt mall. Maybe it didn’t happen in this time, but it happened to you. And you’re the only one who remembers it.

You lean back only a fraction, touching his cheek with such affection. He kisses the corner of your eyebrow, and you close your eyes.

You’re about to do something you promised you would never do.

You rewind Steve Harrington.

<<<

“I’ll pull the car up and we can throw your bike in the backseat.”

“No I’ll make a run for it with you and toss it in.”

Steve laughs and shrugs, grabbing your arm and starts to run at the car. He quickly opens one of the back doors and helps you haul the bike into the backseat, slamming the door closed and quickly getting into the front.

You hop into the passenger side and you’re both drenched. Steve looks at you and laughs, and the curl of hair that’s stuck to his forehead is still there. It curves around his temple and almost joins his eyebrows together and you smile, but quickly avert your gaze.

Steve reaches over and tentatively takes your hand.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

<<<

“I’ll pull the car up and we can throw your bike in the backseat.”

“No, I’ll bike home, don’t worry!”

“Oh come on I’m not letting you bike in this!” Steve gestures out to the rain, and seeing him like this after being inches away from his face only moments ago nearly gives you whiplash.

He smiles, putting his hands overtop yours where they hold your bike’s handlebars.

“On three,” he grins, looking out at the rain.

“One—two—three!”

<<<

.

The problem, you realize, is that it isn’t entirely up to you.

You can’t fix this, you can’t change this. No matter what you decide to do, Steve’s mind has been made much sooner. He’s in love with you and he refuses to keep it a secret anymore. He always offers to take you home. He always leans in to kiss you.

But you can’t let him, because loving Steve and having things change between you brings him at risk of the danger that is in your veins. If you lose him again like you almost did at Starcourt, it would surely kill you. Because Steve always protects, but this time you can’t let him.

You raise your hand up, one last time. And your blood ignites.

<<<

“I’ll pull the car up and – hey what’s – hey your nose!” Steve points at your face and you reach up with a hand, your fingers touching something warm and wet.

“Shit—” you pull your hand away, already knowing what you’ll see. But it’s worse – it’s much worse. You’ve been irresponsible, driven completely by your feelings and ignoring the protest in your head.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Steve says. And he jolts when your bike clatters on the pavement next to you, while you grab his arm.

“911.” you say, right before you collapse.

>>>

Steve calls Robin to tell her what’s happened. He also has to fight with Keith over the phone against writing a formal work injury report, insisting that it happened outside after your shift.

He comes back into the room and wipes his hair from his face, sitting down in the chair next to your bed.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He leans back in the chair and wipes his face. “I need to talk to you about something.”

And you can’t stop it this time, you’re too _tired._ Your head is already pounding, your powers stuck on recharge. All you can do is wait.

“You’ve been acting different.” he says instead. You pause, look up at him.

“…What?” you shake your head, “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.” he laughs a little, self-depricating. “I don’t know what I did to make you look at me like that –”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re,” he laughs, looking older than his years, “Like you feel sorry for me.”

And despite it being about three skips ago, your lips still feel kissed raw.

“It’s not like that…” you start, but how are you supposed to explain? Sorry I watched you die and it’s broken me. Sorry I’m pushing you away even when I know I’m in love with you.

“We have to move on from it – y’know?” he starts, and it occurs to you that he thinks you’re afraid of the Upside Down. You’re afraid of the monsters that came out of it.

But he doesn’t know the half of it.

“We have to…try to get back to something normal.”

And it feels like the last nail in the coffin of your friendship. Because the truth is that you haven’t been normal since 1983.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.” he says.

“Yeah.” you reply. Numb. You’re numb.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Yeah.”

He scratches the back of his neck, getting up from his seat. He looks like he wants to say more but he doesn’t. He turns and leaves.

You’re going to lose him and you’re not stopping it.

>>>

Robin comes in not ten minutes later, holding two cups of hot chocolate. When she sees you crying, she knows. Oh, _she knows._

>>>

“Why did you stop him?”

You look over, tears spilling over as you whisper, “I didn’t want things to change.”

Robin holds your hand sympathetically. “And they changed anyway.”

Your laugh is muddled by your tears. You never thought you’d ache for someone who didn’t even know they had you.

You cover your face with your free hand and weep.

>>>>

Steve spends less and less time with you. He asks Keith to switch shifts around so you work with Robin and not with him. It’s an inevitable change, one you’re not comfortable with but one you think you deserve to suffer through. You can’t expect him to keep holding onto someone who won’t let him in. So you let him go.

He used to call you nearly every night, the two of you talking and joking on the phone. Now he calls maybe once a week, even sometimes forgetting. And when you pick up, you don’t talk long. You only see him at the end of his shifts, and he gives you a polite smile, like a stranger.

Robin tells you he’s dating a girl that used to work at Sunglass Hut. Someone blessedly normal. And you feel like your heart has calcified. Your blood gone permanently cold.

It’s like he’s a different person – things that used to make him laugh don’t even earn you that tone in his voice that means he’s smiling on the other end of the phone. He’s engrossed in his new life, and you’re just not part of it.

Sometimes you pick up the phone and get angry at him, just to see what he’d do – but the guilt of blaming him for being happy eats away as soon as the words leave your mouth.

You always rewind time before he responds. On those nights, the conversations you let play out are even shorter than normal.

Eventually, you stop picking up the phone. You ask your parents to lie, to pretend you’re busy or you’re out somewhere. You didn’t think it’d ever happen, but you just can’t talk to Steve anymore.

Eventually, Steve stops calling altogether.

>>>

Your parents are out on a dinner date when the phone rings. You’re in the kitchen about to make popcorn for your Star Wars trilogy marathon, so you pick it up without really thinking.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Steve says on the other end and you freeze up, nearly dropping the container of kernels on the ground.

“Shit—”

“Is this a bad time?”

You rush to correct it, embarrassed for making such a fuss, “No I just grabbed the phone when my hands were full, it’s not a bad time.”

“Okay,” Steve trails off. It’s been over a month since he last called, your wounded heart still healing from your own self-destructive behaviour. You’re certain he wouldn’t call back unless it was important.

“How are you doing?” you chance, leaning against the kitchen counter before you hop up on it.

You hear him take a deep breath, in and out. “I’m not doing great. I just…called you without thinking, I guess.”

You catch the phone’s cord in your hand and twine it through your fingers, unsure of what to say. You’ve thought about calling him, always hoping the feeling would subside in your chest. But hearing him on the other line felt like pulling the scab off a healing wound – nothing had gotten better. You had just desperately tried to cover it up.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called.” he apologizes and you feel your heart nearly split in two. “And I’m sorry I’ve been…avoiding you.”

It’s you that’s done this to your friendship.

“No – Steve, it’s my fault. I should’ve tried calling sooner.”

“I miss you.” he interrupts suddenly, and your throat closes up. “I miss talking to you. I miss hanging out with you. I just…” his voice tightens and he doesn’t finish his sentence for quite some time.

“Steve…?” you ask after it’s silent for a moment too long. You wonder if he’s hung up.

“I uh, tried to go out,” he says, “With other people but…” And you don’t know why he’s telling you because he doesn’t owe you a thing. But then again, you know why. 

And you want to rewind. You want to take away that pain in his voice but you _can’t._ Because you’re the one that caused it.

“I couldn’t keep dragging her along if my heart wasn’t in it.” he says.

You can’t treat Steve like he’s at the whim of your powers. You can’t keep rewinding him until you get the outcome you want, because you love him. You love him even when he says things he doesn’t mean – you love the fact that he has a good heart and the best intentions. You love that he works at being a better person every day – even if people don’t notice it.

You love him.

And you need to tell him the truth to let him go.

>>>

The sun has just hidden behind the horizon when Steve pulls up in his car. He turns off his headlights and you can feel him hesitate in the driver’s seat before he climbs out.

“Hey,” you greet, voice soft.

“Been a while.” he says, car keys clinking in his hands until he shoves them into his jacket pocket.

“Wanna sit?” you ask, offering him a spot on the concrete curb and he obliges. 

It’s quiet for a beat, just the sound of the wind brushing past your ears and against the light fabric of your jacket. When you glance over, Steve is already looking at you, eyes big and honest and just a little bit guarded.

“I have to tell you something, and I want you to keep an open mind when you hear it.” you start.

He relaxes his posture a bit, “Okay, I’m listening.”

“I…” you breathe in, and then out, and try not to focus on the fact that you can hear your own heartbeat, “I can manipulate time. To an extent.”

Steve frowns, and so it begins.

He opens his mouth to ask his first question, but to you, he’s already asked it.

“What do you mean?”

<<

Before he even asks, your answer is already formed, “What I mean is that I can skip back and replay things that have just happened.” you say.

He stares at you, and then looks down at his lap, and then back at you. You know how he feels – ‘how is she reading my mind?’ you aren’t. He opens his mouth and you’re already preparing an answer.

“Replay how long?”

<<

“Generally the last 30 seconds, but I can rewind up to a few minutes if I’m in a dire situation. I think an adrenaline rush pushes me further.” you say.

Steve looks at you like he’s starting to panic and so you touch his arm.

You’re trying to steady him because he quickly got overwhelmed the first time you did this. It’s disorienting for him, to have you answer his questions before he poses them – like you’re reading his mind. He doesn’t know, but it’s already happened.

“And how many times have you –” he wavers.

“Rewinded this moment? Two so far.”

It’s almost funny how it’s the more mundane things that confuse him the most, as if the eldritch-level horrors happening in Hawkins are nothing. Steve’s ability to accept the supernatural has become nearly instantaneous. He doesn’t need to muse the possibility of these things being real because he lives in a world where he already believes them.

“You’ve rewinded time before, then?” he asks. You don’t rewind to interrupt him, because he believes you. And because you don’t ever want to replay the wavering in his voice in this moment.

“A few times.” you swallow, “To defeat a monster,” you look down at your hands, “To prevent a death. That sort of thing.”

“And,” Steve’s voice is measured and when you look up he’s already settled his eyes on yours. “You used it on me?”

Your voice comes out softly when you answer,

“Yes.”

“When?”

<<

“I’ve been doing it for parts of this conversation.” you admit. “As proof to you that I’m not lying about my powers.” you can’t look at his face when you recall the scene because it’s too painful. “And I did it in the Starcourt parking lot when you crashed your car into Billy’s, because you hit him at the wrong angle one time and you flew out the front windshield.” you close your eyes, willing the image to stop – stop – _stop –_

“Hey—are you…” he starts when he sees you start to fold in on yourself, your stomach heavy, heart grief-stricken.

“Sorry,” you manage to say between the difficult huffs of air. You feel Steve’s hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“You’re freezing, how long have you been waiting for me? Come sit in the car, okay?”

You nod, letting him help you up. You can feel your knees buckling, and then belatedly – the shivering.

“Steve—Steve— _wait,_ ” you grip his hand, squeezing your eyes shut. He pulls you closer.

“Here, turn your head,” he instructs, and you do, letting him push your head down onto his chest. “Listen to my breathing.” he says, and there’s a part of you that says you shouldn’t but your body isn’t listening. Steve is the only thing keeping you from a panic attack and the kicker is that it’s _his death_ that scares you the most.

Your ear is pressed to his chest, and you breathe with him.

“Remember,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “When we were at work a few days after everything and I…started panicking.”

You close your eyes. “The storage room door got jammed.”

“I felt like I was back in the elevator, I thought I was gonna pass out. But then you—” he chuckles, “you and Robin broke the doorknob with the fire extinguisher. Keith was so mad…”

You laugh when he does, and then you wrap your arms around him more securely, just holding onto the feeling of being near him again. Your breathing evens out to the same rise and fall of Steve’s chest. It’s quiet for a long moment, before Steve speaks up. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of the cold.” he says, and you let him lead you to the car.

Steve opens the passenger door for you – a habit you’ve always loved about him, before climbing into the driver’s seat.

He takes your hand when he’s comfortable, and you let him, putting your other hand overtop and just running your thumb along his knuckles.

“How… many times did I die?” he asks, his voice soft so as to lessen the blow.

Your lip quivers, not wanting to count but you’re no fool, because you already know the number – you know the number like you know your own name because it’s _Steve._

And you love him.

“You died seven times. Robin died four.”

Steve leans back, pushes a hand through his hair. “ _Shit.”_

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a beat, and you’re not expecting the next question.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and when you look at him, he’s leaned back on the headrest of the driver’s seat. “When you rewind?”

“It usually gives me bad migraines. In the moment, my nose can start bleeding. Similar to Eleven, I guess.”

You’ve slipped up. You can see the wheels turning in Steve’s head over something you just admitted.

“You only get nosebleeds when you use your powers?”

He’s figured it out, you can tell.

“Yes.” you admit.

“And so…” he sits up straight in the seat, looking over the dashboard of his car while he fits the puzzle pieces together in his mind. “It was raining really hard that one time, you remember?”

You remember.

“You had biked to work but it was pouring rain. I offered to drive you home…”

You can remember that night like it happened five minutes ago. You can remember how Steve kissed you, you can remember how many times, how many ways. You remember every millisecond of that night because it happened. Because it happened to both of you but you stole it from him.

“You –”

“I promised myself I’d never rewind time unless it was for a fight or to help a friend.” you pause, take a breath, “But that night I broke my promise.”

“You rewinded it.” he says.

“Yes.” you answer.

“You rewinded _me. Us.”_ he clarifies.

You look at him and there is what you’ve been expecting – the heartbreak. Even if he didn’t know it happened, he knows _something_ did. Something big enough that you made him forget. You rewinded it and undid it for him, but for you it wasn’t erased, it still happened. And by that logic, it _did_ happen. You were the liar pretending it didn’t.

“I did.” you say.

“What…” he looks over, “What happened?”

You go to remove your hand from his but he makes a noise, and when you look at him he’s shaking his head. “Don’t do that, don’t…distance yourself from me. Please.”

You look down at your entwined fingers and sigh.

“After we managed to stuff my bike in the backseat, we were already soaked from the rain. Your hair was plastered to your forehead and we laughed about it, and then –” you trail off, looking up. “You kissed me. _We_ kissed, I should say. I kissed you back. And then you told me you were in love with me.”

Steve is silent for a long time, and the only thing that reassures you that he isn’t angry is the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did you really…” he goes silent, trying to find the right words. “Did you really not want to date me so badly? You wanted to avoid it that badly?”

You rear back, appalled at the conclusion this has led him to. “Steve, _no.”_ you squeeze his hand tighter, but he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t respond. “ _Steve,_ look at me, please.” you plead, and at your tone he hesitates, but looks over. You touch his cheek with your free hand and he takes it in his own despite himself.

“Steve, I didn’t want to _lose_ you. I thought I was protecting you and I was wrong.” you shake your head, “I’ve loved you for so long, I was just _scared_ you’d die and it would be my fault. That what I can do would only bring you closer to danger. And so I—I avoided you, tried to make you hate me.”

At that, he shakes his head, looks down at your entwined hands.

“I can’t hate you.” he says, and _oh_ the genuine love in his voice makes something flutter in your stomach, down into your toes.

“But I deserve it.”

Steve brushes your hair from your face, fingers touching the shell of your ear, “How could I hate you for being afraid for me?”

You’re almost voiceless when you answer, “I don’t know.”

“Yeah because the answer is I _can’t.”_ he sighs, brushes his hand against your cheek. “I’m sorry you went through that alone.”

You hold his hand to your cheek, revel in the contact, in the comfort it brings. “Stop apologizing,” you smile, even as you start crying because the affection you feel for him is bursting at the seams. You’re in love with him and you’re the one who hurt him but _still_ he worries for _you._

“C’mere,” he says, and he pulls you closer, crawling over to his side until you’re practically in his lap. And he hugs you, wraps you up until all you can smell is the warmth of Steve’s cologne and his shampoo.

You huddle into his chest, and he holds you close, idly playing with your hands in his own.

“I missed you.” he says. “I tried to give you space because that’s what I felt like you wanted but,” he shakes his head and looks at you with a sheepish smile. “I can’t stay away I guess.”

“I think we’re stuck together.” you say, bumping your nose against his jaw. And he smiles.

“From what I understand about time stuff…” Steve starts and you squint at him, suspicious of the playful tone in his voice.

“Uh oh.” you say and he brightens up, that boyish smile back with a vengeance. It’s been so long since you’ve seen it.

“Somewhere out there, we’ve been together for months, making out all the time…” he muses.

“Oh, is that so?” you quirk a brow.

“Mhm, going on dates every weekend, making dinner together, _tons_ of PDA – enough to make the kids sick.”

“I’m starting to get a little jealous.”

Steve raises his eyebrows playfully, “Oh yeah? Technically it’s us.”

“Technically we’ve kissed.” you murmur and Steve is already leaning over to you, still smiling.

“Oh yeah?” he says, softly.

“A lot.” you say even softer.

“Mm, that sounds pretty nice.” Steve murmurs.

“You’re surprisingly conservative with the tongue.” you joke.

Steve laughs, his nose brushing against yours, forehead almost bumping against your own. You could joke again, prolong this moment but you can’t be bothered. You’ve waited a long time, and Steve has waited even longer. He kisses you, mouth warm and soft against your own. His lips brush delicate at first, and you nip a bit, the way he likes. His hand roams down, over your backside and slides a warm palm into your back pocket.

When you part from the kiss, you huddle yourself a little closer and Steve sighs.

“No more secrets.” he says, and when you look up at him, he’s got that determined look in his eye – like he knows he can take on the world. And he wants to do it with you.

“No more secrets.” you agree, and when he goes to kiss you again, you meet him.

Without hesitation – without rewrites.


End file.
